


Salt

by Bullfinch



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Femdom, Hand Jobs, Light Dom/sub, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, PWP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 17:53:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4314705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bullfinch/pseuds/Bullfinch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iron Bull likes to think he’s the most dominant personality at Skyhold. Sanaris Lavellan wishes to clarify that this is not, in fact, the case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Salt

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I have a couple more ideas bouncing around for this so that’s why I’m leaving it marked incomplete, but said ideas are very vague so I wouldn’t recommend holding your breath. Additionally, I envision Sanaris with an American accent so that may explain some of the syntax. Written in approximately 2 hours, I take full responsibility for any dubious writing

Bull groans, tilting his head back against the mattress.  _Fuck,_ that’s good. Her hands are small but they’re ruthless and all that jerking is  _really_  starting to add up—

_“Hey!”_

Whoops.

Sanaris pushes herself up on her knees, her crotch rising away from Bull’s face. She plants her hands on his hips and lets her head hang, glaring at him upside-down with her long hair brushing his stomach. “Did I say you could stop?”

“Uh, no you didn’t. Sorry, boss.” Bull wraps his arms around her thighs, pulls her down again and returns to the task at hand. Namely eating her cunt. Her…tiny, tiny cunt. (She’s made it clear she’s going to ride him at some point, but that’ll require a lot of preparation, and the Inquisitor doesn’t have much free time these days.)

He presses his tongue flat against her, then wags it side to side, parting her labia, tasting her fluids. She’s  _wet_. His nose and chin are drenched and have been for a while. She’s a little saltier than a typical human, not as sweet as a Qunari. Sanaris Lavellan is the first elf he’s eaten out in a long time, and he’d forgotten the taste but he’s sure as fuck never going to forget it now, not if she keeps using his mouth to get off like this.

“ _There_  we go. Now don’t even think of stopping again.”

The near-incurrence of her wrath has put off Bull’s orgasm some, which is good. He doesn’t want to piss her off. Because when she  _does_  get pissed off she doesn’t let him come at all, not until her displeasure has passed. And she can hold a fucking grudge. For days. He grasps her thighs tighter, pressing her onto his face, and traces around her entrance.

A sharp intake of breath. “That’s it. Fuck me with that big tongue of yours.”

So he obliges, pushing inside her. She grunts, rocking her hips around him and in the process smearing more of her fluids on his face. (Drop in the bucket at this point.) Then her hands, sliding slick over the rock-hard mast of his erection, travel up to his cockhead, her thumbs rolling over it. And then she finds that  _one fucking spot_  right on the underside and circles it with her finger—

He tenses, cramming the climax back down to a place where it won’t get him condemned to a week devoid of orgasms. But he can’t help groaning into her cunt, taking a deep breath to calm himself and inhaling her scent—

A sharp slap to his inner thigh makes him yell, his leg folding up reflexively. (He never thought someone a third his size could hurt him, but she’s fucking  _strong._ Qunari-strong, even with that tiny body.) “I told you to get me off!” Sanaris barks. “Now can you do that, or do I have to do it myself?”

And leave him like this, unsatisfied. Uh oh. That might literally drive him crazy. He scrambles to apologize. “No, boss, I’m sorry, I’ll do better.”

“Hm,” she grunts. “I’ll believe it when I’m coming on your face.”

He curls his tongue to get at her clit, making agile little circles, slipping the hood back. Dangerous territory—if he does it too early and she’s not turned on enough, she’s too sensitive and reprimands him for it (with a trademark absence of mercy). But this time he appears to have done his job, because he hears a hissed exhale, a low  _“yes.”_   

He might feel better about the situation if she weren’t  _still_  rolling her thumb over his cockhead, slow but unrelenting. If she commanded it, he could come in about half a second. But that’s not how this works. So instead he has to endure it, his toes curling, the muscles in his legs tightening up and relaxing intermittently. Whatever willpower isn’t being diverted into not blowing his load at any given second is reserved for keeping his hips on the bed instead of humping the air and fucking into her hands. Sanaris does not tolerate that.  _You’re going to lie there perfectly still. You understand me? Except for your tongue, of course._ There are no restraints. A novice might think that gave them more freedom. Bull knows that the exact opposite is true. He has to provide the restraints himself. And it’s fucking  _hard._

Just like his cock, which is going to  _explode_ —no, not yet. He leashes the climax once more. In his relief he almost loses his focus on Sanaris’s cunt, but he realizes his mistake in time and closes his lips around her clit, rolling it.  

Close one.

“Look how much pre you’re leaking.”

A glimmer of hope. Bull hears the shiver in her voice. She’s getting close.

“You better not fucking come before I do.” She jerks his shaft again, faster now than she was doing it before— _fuck_ —squeezing him with something that strays just beyond the borders of gentleness. “Because if you do, I can guarantee you’re not going to enjoy the consequences.”

He hums an acknowledgement, and her hips twitch against him. Must’ve felt good. He gives her a couple of long licks, her fluids spilling over him, before he takes her clit in again, sucking it, teasing the little nub with the tip of his tongue. 

“Oh, yeah,” she breathes. “ _Fuck._  Stick your tongue out.”

Bull obeys, eager to hasten the process, because the pleasure throbbing in his cock is really starting to get excruciating. Especially when she doubles her pace, her palms rubbing slippery and fast over his foreskin, and the all-at-once buildup of hot friction might be fucking incredible in any other situation but right now, with the iron command flaring bright in his mind— _you don’t come until I do_ —it just hits him like a punch in the balls. He grunts, his hips rising briefly off the bed ( _fuck_ , he hopes she didn’t notice that—and it seems not, as she doesn’t say anything). But lucky for him he’s had some practice with getting distracted in the middle of servicing the Inquisitor, and he manages to keep his tongue out.

She grinds on him, humping his mouth. Always likes to do it like this rather than let Bull get her off with his own skills—denying him even that small measure of power. She’s jerking him now in a way that, he realizes, is going to tip him over the edge in a scant few seconds, and no amount of mental effort can stop that, although he gives it a last desperate try,  _keep a fucking lid on it, you’ve been through the Fade, you’ve walked through dragon fire, how can_ this _be the hardest fucking thing you’ve ever done—_

“All right, do it,” Sanaris breathes, lowering herself, the heat of her body close against his chest and stomach. Her lips brush his cockhead. “Come on, big guy, come all over my face—“

He manages not to yell, a fact in which he takes great pride, but he thinks his bone-deep groan may still shake the timbers of the Inquisitor’s room. And that’s all the self-restraint he has left. His hips pump into the air, his cock sliding through Sanaris’s hands as he fucks wildly at nothing. She’s  _still_  working him, even as she lets out a shuddering moan of her own, her crotch spasming against him. A new gush of fluids coats his tongue. That might drive his orgasm as much as her hands do.  _Something_  certainly is. He’s never had a climax last this long, his balls tight, his cock pulsing as cum somehow keeps on spurting out of him.

Bull sees stars.

Eventually the orgasm ends, although at that point his mind is so fucked away he doesn’t notice the exact moment. Everything is out of focus. But he can hear Sanaris laughing, rich and full. He blinks blearily, his eyes flicking over. She sits cross-legged beside him, grinning, swiping with one delicate finger at the cum that coats her nose, lips, and cheeks.

“I’m gonna wash up. Back in a minute.” She pats his stomach and hops off the bed.

Bull grunts. He doesn’t process what she said until she’s out of view. Thinking is tough. Moving is impossible. So he lies there, his only act to raise his head and check to make sure his cock is still there. It is, lying soft over one thigh. Good. He was afraid that last session may have obliterated it completely.

Then Sanaris is back, her face fresh and clean. She flings open the wardrobe and files through her clothes. “I have a meeting. You can hang around here and take a nap if you want.”

Bull grunts again.

Sanaris picks an outfit. “What’s wrong? Did I wear you out?”

“I’ll say.” The ceiling, which he’s been staring at for the past…who knows how long, has finally begun to resolve into separate stones rather than a plane of indistinct grey. “That was. Uh.”

“Intense?” She slips her underclothes on, forgoing a brassiere—Bull doesn’t think he’s ever seen her wearing one, not that she needs to with tits that small. “What, am I too much for the Iron Bull to handle?”

Bull is quick to correct her. “Oh no, I’ll handle you as much as you want. Or, well, the other way around.”

“Good. I’m not done with you yet.” She tugs on the rest of her clothes and jams her feet into her boots. “I’l see you later. Count on it.”

Then she’s gone, leaving Bull naked and drained and happier than a nug in a sty. The air is cool on his sweaty skin, so he drags the covers over himself and shuts his eyes.

He must be the luckiest asshole in all of Thedas.


End file.
